Choke (29 page)

“What time did you finish last night?”

“At six.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went home, showered and changed clothes, then I met Chuck and Meg at Louie’s for dinner. We were celebrating our buying the club.”

“How late were you there?”

“Well, now, that’s where things get a little fuzzy,” Victor said ruefully. “We sort of tied one on.”

“You don’t know what time you left Louie’s?” Victor shook his head. “Meg was sober enough to drive; ask her.”

“You went home, then?”

“No, we went to Chuck’s boat.”

“How long were you there?”

“All night.”

“Drinking? All night?”

“No, I slept there, in the saloon. Second night in a row.”

Tommy stared at the man. If his story held up, then the list of suspects was at an end. “How long have you known Clare Carras, Victor?”

“Since they came to town, late last year, I guess. I think they started playing here almost as soon as they arrived.”

“Did you know Clare before that?”

“No. You asked me all this before, Tommy.”

“Ever been to Las Vegas, Victor?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

“How long ago?”

“Let’s see, it was a convention of a tennis association, two years ago. I was there a couple of years before that, too, at a tournament.”

“Is that where you met Merk?”

“Right. On the second trip.”

“You became buddies then?”

“Not exactly; we had a few drinks, had dinner once in a group of people.”

“Did you meet his wife at that time?”

Victor shook his head. “He told me he was going through a divorce, though.”

“Do you know who his wife was?”

“Yep. But not until just recently.”

“How recently?”

“Night before last. I had dinner aboard
Choke
and Chuck told me.”

“And it came as a surprise that Merk and Clare had been married once?”

“Did it ever!
Knocked me right off my stool, I can tell you. I mean, Merk
never
let on, never said a
word
to me about her.”

“Give me your background since college, Victor.”

“I didn’t go to college.”

“All right, since high school.”

“I taught at a tennis camp the summers of my junior and senior years, and again the summer after high school, then I went into the marines.”

“How long did you serve?”

“Two three-year hitches.”

“Where?”

“Parris Island, Camp Pendleton, a tour of Vietnam, then to Quantico, where I joined a service tennis team. After that, all I did was play tennis.”

“After the marines?”

“I taught at half a dozen clubs up and down the eastern seaboard, mostly in Florida.”

“How did you happen to come to Key West?”

“Merk called me. He remembered me from our meeting in Vegas and he offered me the job, winters in Key West, summers in Santa Fe.”

Tommy leaned forward. “Tell me about Vietnam.”

“I was in a rifle company; we got shot at from time to time.”

“Were you ever in Saigon?”

“Yeah, a dozen times, I guess.”

“Did you ever meet Merk in Saigon?”

Victor shook his head. “Nah, Merk was an officer, running a program at an officers’ club. I never rose above corporal, so we didn’t move in the same circles. I knew he was there, though; he told me the first time we met.”

“Victor, did the Marine Corps teach you how to use a knife?”

“Sure, they taught everybody.”

“Did you ever kill anybody with a knife?”

Victor shook his head. “I never got that close to anybody I wanted to kill. Mostly I fired an M-16 at jungle. The only Vietcong I ever saw were at a distance or dead. Tommy, what’s this all about?”

“Merk’s dead.”

Victor looked absolutely flabbergasted. “When? How?”

“Late last night, drowning.”

“Drowning?
He was swimming late last night?”

“Boating,” Tommy said. “He didn’t do any swimming.”

Back in the car, Tommy and Daryl compared notes.

“The three of them seem to have spent most of the last forty-eight hours together,” Daryl said. “But Victor was sleeping in the saloon on the boat. He could have sneaked out in the night.”

Tommy nodded. “But if he did, he’s got Meg, who was pretty sober, to testify as to how drunk he was. It would take a lot of doing to leave
Choke
and, without a car, get to a marina on Stock Island, slug Merk, dump him out on the reef, get back to the marina, then back to
Choke.”

“Maybe he didn’t go back to the marina,” Daryl said. “Maybe he brought his boat into Key West Bight, then boarded
Choke
again.”

“Or,” Tommy said, “maybe he
left
Key West Bight in a boat and drove around to Stock Island. How long would that take?”

“Well, I’d say no more than an hour, even at night, if he knew what he was doing.”

“So he could have done it,” Tommy said.

“It’s not impossible, but what’s his motive? He and Chuck just bought the tennis club from Merk yesterday, and the money was already in the bank.”

“You’ve got a point. By the way, he knew about Merk and Clare.”

“Yeah, Chuck told me he told him.”

“I wish he hadn’t told him,” Tommy said.

“Why?”

“Because Merk might still be alive.”

“That’s pretty far-fetched, Tommy.”

Tommy nodded. “I know.”

“Tommy, not to criticize your surveillance work, but Clare
might
have gotten past you last night, just like Merk got past me.”

“How would she get to the marina and back?”

“Merk had a scooter; maybe she has some transportation we don’t know about. It’s possible.”

“Anything’s
possible,” Tommy replied. “That’s the trouble with this case.”

“Tommy, you predicted this; you said she had a man who was helping her; you said she’d waste him as soon as we nailed Chuck. Well, we nailed Chuck, she thinks, and she wasted him. It’s obvious to me.”

Tommy sighed. “I wish it were as obvious to me, kid.”

T
ommy was awakened by the telephone before dawn, but Rosie got to it first.

“Hello?” she said sleepily. Rosie was used to answering the phone for Tommy in the middle of the night. She listened for a moment, then nudged Tommy with an elbow. “It’s for you,” she said.

“Who is it?”

“It’s a
woman,”
she said venomously.

Tommy sat up in bed and took the phone. “Tommy Sculley,” he said.

“Tommy, it’s Rita,” a small female voice said.

“Who?” Tommy replied, although he knew very well who it was.”

“Rita Cortez, in L.A.”

“Oh, yeah, how are you? What is it, the middle of the night out there?”

“It’s a little after two,” she said.

“What’s up, Rita?”

“You’re going to be very angry with me.”

“Why should I be angry with you?”

“I told them.”

“Told who, and what?”

“About Key West. I told them.”

“Start at the beginning, Rita, and tell me everything.”

“These two guys showed up at my house, and they said they wanted to know everything about Barry’s time in Florida.”

“Whatshisname, the lawyer sent them?”

“They didn’t mention his name, but who else?”

“What, exactly, did they ask you?”

“They knew Barry had been to Florida, because he was killed there, and they knew you were from Key West. What they didn’t know was the tip that Barry got about Key West. But they know it now.”

“Oh,” Tommy managed to say. His mind was racing.

“They hurt me, Tommy; I wouldn’t have told them, but they hurt me.”

“I’m sorry, Rita; I wish I could have been there to help. Are you all right?”

“I think they broke my arm.”

“Oh, shit; do you want me to get you some help there? I’ll call somebody on the LAPD and get you some help.”

“No, don’t do that; they might still be around, and they swore they’d come back if I called the cops.”

“But you need help.”

“I can get myself to the emergency room; Mount Sinai isn’t far from my place.”

“Can you drive?”

“I can make it, don’t worry about me; worry about you.”

“Me,
why?”

“Because the lawyer knows you’re from Key West, remember? They knew it, too. They’re going to want to know what you know about Barry and Marinello and the Carras woman.”

“Where did you hear that last name?”

“Carras? They mentioned it.”

“What did the two guys look like? Give me a description.”

“One of them was sharp-looking, a slick dresser; I think it was an Armani suit; dark hair, not too long, slicked back, straight nose, good teeth, a ladies’ man. The other one was just a gorilla—big, hairy, smelled of garlic—right out of …”

“A description, Rita.”

“Six-three, two-forty, black hair going gray, thick hair on the backs of his hands, hair everywhere, bad nose job.”

“Okay, got it.”

“You watch out, Tommy; they might show up there.”

“I’ll watch out, Rita; now you get to the ER right away, you hear me? And call me if you need anything, and I mean
anything.”
He hung up.

“So?
” Rosie said, and she was seething.

“Shut up, Rosie, it’s business.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she turned over and put her face in the pillow. He had never talked to her that way before.

He patted her on the bottom. “I’m sorry, sugar, but it was bad news.”

Tommy and Daryl stood in the arrivals lounge, such as it was—at Key West International Airport, a long shedlike building, no air-conditioning. The good thing about it was that every flight pulled up and emptied at the same gate.

The two detectives watched the last passenger through the door.

“Nothing fitting the description,” Daryl said. “Come on, Tommy, we can’t meet every flight.”

“Just the late afternoon, early evening ones,” Tommy said. “That’s when passengers from L.A. would arrive.”

“Tommy, there are more than a hundred flights a day into this airport, from Miami, Orlando, Tampa, Naples. We can’t meet even the late afternoon, early evening ones and get anything else done. The chief isn’t going to stand for it.”

“I haven’t said anything to the chief.”

“Thank God for that. If he thought you’d pulled two mob palookas down on us, he’d blow a bearing.”

“A fuse, Daryl; you don’t blow a bearing.”

“You know what I mean.”

“There’s another flight due in seven minutes, from Orlando. That’s where I’d change planes, if I was coming from L.A. I’d avoid the mess at Miami International. Let’s sit down.”

They sat down.

“I don’t get it, Tommy, why are you so het up about this? Are you protecting Clare Carras?”

Tommy turned and looked at him. “They hurt Rita, Daryl; she’s no more than a hundred pounds, and these two pieces of shit broke her arm!”

“So, what can we do about it? Beat them up? That’s big trouble for us. Arrest them? On what charge?”

Tommy looked at his watch. “Listen to that; it’s early.” The sound was the whine of turboprop engines as the airplane approached the ramp. Tommy got up and stood near where the passengers would pass. “Come on, Daryl; let’s check it out.”

Daryl went and stood next to him.

“You remember the description?”

“I remember.”

“If you spot them, don’t look right at them; pretend you’re looking for somebody behind them.”

“Right, Tommy,” Daryl said wearily.

Tommy looked at Daryl in his jeans and Hawaiian shirt. “They’d never make you, anyway; they’ve never seen a cop like you.” He laughed.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve still got your sense of humor,” Daryl grumbled.

“Heads up!” Tommy said. “Lookahere.”

There they were, the younger one still in his Armani suit, the gorilla in a sport shirt with the tails out, looking weary and grumpy. They were carrying overnight bags.

“Don’t look at them,” Tommy commanded out of the side of his mouth.

“All right, Tommy,” Daryl said, “I’m not looking at them.”

The two men passed within inches of the detectives. Tommy watched as they headed for the rental car counter. “The big one’s renting the car—he’s using cash; the younger guy is on the hotel reservation phone. Let’s go get in the car.”

They went out to the car, parked close to where the rental cars were. A few minutes later the two hoods left the airport building, walked across the street, and got into a Lincoln Town Car.

“If they booked a hotel room, they must not know where she lives,” Tommy said. “Otherwise, they’d just go do what they gotta do, then get out.”

“They’re tired,” Daryl said. “It was a long flight. Maybe they’re going to wait until morning.”

Tommy stayed well back. He could see the younger man in the passenger seat, consulting a map and giving directions.

Tommy followed the car down Roosevelt Boulevard, which turned into Truman. The car slowed, the map was consulted, and they turned right on Elizabeth.

“I think I know where they’re going,” Tommy said.

“You could be right.”

The Lincoln drove down Elizabeth, crossed Caroline, turned left on Dey Street, and stopped.

“Uh-oh,” Daryl said.

But the Lincoln was moving again.

“They were just having a look,” Tommy said as the Lincoln began moving again. He followed the car as it turned right on Simonton, then, a couple of blocks later, into the beachfront hotel near the Treasure Island marina. “They’ll be back in the morning, though.”

“Tommy, we’re not going to babysit them all night, are we?”

Tommy grinned. “We’ll take turns, kid.”

T
ommy relieved Daryl at ten, and Daryl headed toward home, tired. Then he pulled the car over to the curb and stopped. Something was nagging at him, something about Merk’s actions on the night he was killed. He thought about it for a minute, then pulled back into traffic and drove toward Duval Street.

He could hear the music two blocks before he got there. A dozen bars up and down the street were blaring competing music into the night. There was a noise ordinance, but it didn’t seem to matter. He thanked heaven he lived on the other side of town.